


Know Your Place

by ideserveyou



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: Fluff, Gambling, Humor, M/M, Romance, Shopping, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-22
Updated: 2011-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideserveyou/pseuds/ideserveyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Kai indulge in some Dark Age retail therapy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know Your Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freddiejoey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/gifts).



> Thanks once again to trepkos for beta-reading; and happy birthday freddiejoey!

Hey!’ Arthur pokes Kai indignantly in the ribs.

 

Kai wakes with a start. ‘What? What is it?’

 

Then he sits up, and looks around the bedchamber. ‘What are you playing at? It’s not even dawn yet. It can’t be time to set off.’

‘No,’ Arthur says, ‘it isn’t. But you were scratching and fidgeting, and I couldn’t sleep. I did try to stop you without waking you.’

Kai snorts. ‘Yes, I’m sure you did. And then you got impatient and decided that since you were awake, I shouldn’t be allowed to sleep either.’

He gives Arthur a gentle shove, then slides across the bed and presses close to him. ‘Well, since we’re both wide awake now, we might as well make the best of it. I know what will help you get back to sleep…’

Then Kai is relaxing; moulding himself against Arthur’s back. Warm lips caress the nape of Arthur’s neck. ‘That feels so good,’ Kai murmurs into his ear. ‘So soft and –’

 

And then Kai stiffens, and curses, and heaves himself up on one elbow to pull a fold of the sheepskin blanket out from underneath him. Frantically he scratches at his flank. ‘I wish these damn bedclothes were half as soft as you,’ he growls. ‘It’s like trying to get comfortable on a gorse bush.’

He wriggles around some more, then thumps the mattress in exasperation. ‘It’s no good,’ he says. ‘I’ll just have to lie on top of you for now.’

‘Or put some clothes on,’ Arthur suggests.

‘That would be a waste,’ Kai says. ‘Especially when I’m …’

And he rolls over and braces himself above Arthur, to show him what he means.

 

Arthur can’t help but agree.

 

…

 

Arthur did indeed go peacefully back to sleep afterwards. Kai lay beside him, trying to ignore the coarse blanket prickling his skin, but when first light filtered through the thatch he decided that he might as well rouse himself to the business of the day.

Now he is breaking his fast at the longhouse table, usurping the privilege of sitting in Arthur’s big carved chair, since its rightful occupant is still blissfully snoring.

 

Mead cup in hand, Kai is daydreaming of what he’d like to do to Arthur in that chair, a fantasy that has kept his mind very pleasantly occupied on many occasions over the years.

He is so absorbed in his thoughts that when he feels Arthur’s hand on his shoulder, he is startled into spilling his drink.

 

‘That’s my chair,’ Arthur says.

‘Is it now?’ Kai replies.

‘Mine by right,’ Arthur tells him.

‘Mine by might.’

 

Kai settles himself more firmly in the seat. He has always loved this childhood ritual, even though it always ends in the same way.

 

‘I’m warning you.’

Arthur makes a determined attempt to wrestle Kai out of the chair, but Kai holds fast to the arms and braces himself.

‘And I’m not hearing you,’ he says, grinning.

‘I warned you,’ Arthur says, and sits down on top of Kai, as heavily as he can.

Kai grunts, and decides that this chair needs a cushion before he tries to fulfil his dream.

‘Do you yield me my place?’ Arthur asks, jabbing a sharp elbow into Kai’s ribs.

‘Yes, I yield you your place,’ Kai says, feigning reluctance. ‘Just get off me …’

‘Say “please”,’ Arthur says, bouncing up and down on him.

‘Please! Please! You’re crushing my …’

‘Well, we don’t want that, do we?’

 

Arthur stands up and releases him. They are both laughing. Kai cuffs him playfully across the shoulders before sitting down on the bench and reaching for a rag to wipe the spilled mead from the front of his tunic.

 

Arthur sits in his chair, one hand fondling the snarling beast-face on the arm. He sees Kai watching, and looks meaningfully at him.

 

Kai is as hard as the chair already, and he knows that Arthur knows it.

 

Yes, definitely, a cushion, Kai thinks. And a big pile of the softest sheepskins…

 

…

 

‘Good, you’re up already.’ Llud breezes in, brisk and cheerful. ‘Not like that lazy ox Conor. He must have been drinking last night – I had the devil of a job to rouse him.’

Arthur grins. ‘Did you throw a bucket of water over him?’

‘No, but I told his wife to,’ Llud says. ‘I’m sure she’ll welcome an excuse. And the others are getting ready. They should all be saddled up and in the yard by the time the sun’s clear of the trees.’

‘We’d best be off to join them, then,’ Arthur says. ‘It’s a good two hours’ ride to the market, and there are many things that we need.’

‘There are some things that I need you to bring back for me, since I’m to be left behind this time,’ Llud says. ‘Listen carefully now – I don’t want you to forget anything. This is the last market of the year. A long winter to get through before the next one.’

Kai smiles broadly, and tries to catch Arthur’s eye; Arthur ignores him, and nods solemnly to Llud. ‘I’m listening,’ he says.

 

‘First of all, a knife,’ Llud says. ‘Mine was broken in that last skirmish, and the smith says it’s really beyond repair.’

‘We’d better make it a good one,’ Kai chips in thoughtfully. ‘With a long blade, and a nice polished handle …’

Arthur tries to kick him under the table, but Kai slides along the bench, out of reach.

 

‘A knife,’ Arthur says. ‘And then?’

‘A belt.’ Llud looks ruefully at his frayed, worn swordbelt. ‘This one’s an old friend, but …’

‘But it’s not strong enough to hold Rolf down any more,’ Kai murmurs, looking innocently up at the thatch.

‘What was that?’ Llud asks.

‘Not strong enough to hold the weight of your sword any more,’ Kai says. ‘Isn’t that right, Llud?’

Llud nods. “Yes, that’s right,’ he says, looking suspicious.

 

Arthur dare not look at his brother, as he says, ‘A knife, and a belt. Very well. Anything else?’

‘Silken rope, Greek slave girl, perfume …’ Kai’s voice is pitched for Arthur’s sharp ears alone.

‘Kai.’ Arthur fights down the hysterical laughter bubbling inside him. ‘If you’ve finished your mead, why don’t you go and start saddling up?’

Kai grins. ‘I’ll go in a minute. My cup’s not empty yet.’

‘It will be when I’ve emptied it over your head,’ Arthur hisses at him.

 

‘Tools,’ Llud says, loudly and sharply.

‘I’m sorry?’ Arthur turns back to Llud, somehow keeping himself under control.

‘Woodworking tools,’ Llud says. ‘An awl –’

‘For piercing holes,’ Kai whispers ecstatically.

‘And a hammer.’

‘For knocking…’

Arthur can feel his lips starting to twitch. For something to do, he picks up his cup and drains it.

 

‘Oh, and harness oil. My saddle’s in need of some attention.’

Arthur and Kai both choke violently on their mead.

‘What’s got into you two this morning?’ Llud says.

‘Nothing,’ Kai replies, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘Yet,’ he whispers to Arthur as he leans over to pass him the cloth to dry his face.

Arthur takes a deep breath, and tallies the items on his fingers. ‘Knife, belt, awl, hammer.’

‘Don’t forget the oil,’ Llud tells him. ‘I can’t do without it all winter.’

 

Arthur has to turn away.

 

‘I’ll make sure he remembers,’ Kai says to Llud, deadpan.

 

…

 

Somehow they make it across the yard to the stables before collapsing in gales of mirth in front of their startled horses; somehow they manage to get the saddles on the right way round, and the bridles fastened securely.

 

As they muster their companions and ride off in the direction of the port, Kai’s midriff still aches from laughing. His face still tingles where Arthur had to slap him to make him stop, and he can still feel the imprint of Arthur’s lips on his own, and the warmth of Arthur’s hardness pressed against his …

He sighs. It’s going to be a long day, and there will be precious little chance for them to be alone together. Llud has always said that a little famine is no bad thing if it makes the feast taste better afterwards. Where Arthur is concerned, Kai is constantly ravenous.

He does his best to think of other things: lays ridiculous bets with the others, tells jokes, joins in when Niall begins to sing.

 

But the fine autumn sky is dotted with clouds, and every one of them, soft and white and pure, just makes him think of Arthur’s big chair, piled with sheepskins. The image fills his mind, just as his prick is filling his breeches.

 

‘Kai.’ Arthur’s voice seems to be coming from a long way off. ‘Kai.’

‘Mmm?’

‘Wake up, will you? We’re here.’

‘Sorry,’ Kai says, rousing himself. ‘I was … thinking.’

‘So I see.’ Arthur’s gaze travels down Kai’s body, and up again. ‘You’d better stop thinking before you have to get off that horse,’ he says, his eyes twinkling. ‘Or you won’t be able to walk.’

 

…

 

‘That one,’ Arthur says to the trader. ‘The one with the inlaid handle …’

‘Ah, yes, sir. A good choice. Finest polished sycamore, and the knob on the end is a counterweight. Balances it in the hand.’

Arthur nods earnestly.

‘He’ll ask you to feel it in a minute. Bet you a silver piece you can’t keep a straight face,’ Kai murmurs into his ear.

‘Bet I can,’ Arthur mutters back. ‘I won the other two wagers, didn’t I?’

His face is impassive as the trader runs his hand over the knife hilt. ‘Beautiful quality. Here, sir, feel for yourself.’

Arthur takes the knife, very carefully, and solemnly encircles it with finger and thumb, as though to test the heft of it; pulls it free with his other hand, flourishes it, and embeds the point into the scarred and weathered boards of the trader’s counter.

‘Perfect,’ he says. ‘We’ll take it. Three silver pieces, I think you said? Here are two, and my brother here –’ he digs Kai in the ribs – ‘will pay the third.’

 

Kai can’t look at the trader as he hands over the money. Arthur sheathes the knife and adds it to the other purchases in the saddlebag slung over his shoulder; then he pulls Kai away, round the corner, and they both start to laugh again.

 

‘Arthur, you are magnificent. I never thought you could do it,’ Kai says, breathless and still giggling. ‘Nor did I know that purchasing goods in the market could be so much fun. But I can’t go on. I never believed it was possible to die laughing, until today.’

Arthur smiles, and flings an arm around Kai’s shoulders. ‘Come on, pull yourself together. We’ve got the belt and the tools – now all we need is the oil.’

‘Saving the best till last, eh?’ Kai gives Arthur a suggestive look under lowered lids.

Arthur feels himself growing weak with desire. But not here… not with so many watching eyes.

He draws a deep breath. ‘Stop it. We’re important Celtic leaders on important business. It behoves us to conduct ourselves accordingly.’

But he can’t keep the laughter out of his voice; and Kai’s mouth is still twitching irresistibly at the corners as they head for the oil-merchant’s stall.

‘My turn,’ Kai says.

‘A silver piece says you’ll need my help,’ Arthur replies.

 

And of course he is right. But Kai doesn’t seem to begrudge him his fourth victory.

 

…

 

It is well past midday before they have completed the purchasing of winter essentials for the village, fed and watered the horses, and hauled Conor and Niall out of the mead hall and set them to packing the saddlebags.

 

It won’t be long before they have to set off on the return journey, but Kai still has a particular image in his mind.

‘You can do without me for a little while, can’t you?’ he says to Arthur. ‘There are … a couple more things I need to buy.’

‘Go, then,’ Arthur replies, looking up from the buckle he is tightening, ‘but don’t be long. There are robbers in these woods. I want to be home well before dark.’

 

And Kai is free.

 

It doesn’t take him long to find what he needs, and this time he has no trouble keeping control of his face, although he does have to hold the full saddlebag in front of him as he walks back to the stables, concealing the fact that he has no control over what is happening inside his breeches.

 

…

 

It’s been a long day, and somehow this evening has seemed longer and more tedious than all the rest of it; but at last their companions bid them goodnight. Llud takes himself tactfully off to Olwen’s hut, proudly wearing his new belt and knife, and Kai bars the longhouse door behind them all and turns back to Arthur, smiling.

 

‘Well?’ Arthur asks him. ‘Are you going to tell me what it was you bought?’

‘All in good time,’ Kai says.

‘No. Now,’ Arthur demands.

 

‘Very well.’ Kai leans down and rummages in the saddlebag stowed behind the bench. ‘It was a good thing Llud asked for this. Reminded me that mine was running low too.’

He hands Arthur an oil flask. ‘I’ll wager you all the silver you like that this’ll smell a lot better than what he’s rubbing into his saddle right now,’ he says.

‘Unless Olwen had other ideas,’ Arthur laughs. Then he holds out a hand to Kai. ‘Come on, then. Time for bed.’

But Kai shakes his head. ‘Not quite yet. You go into the other room – prepare yourself for me. Then come back when you’re ready, and bring the oil with you. I’ve got something else to show you.’

‘I can see that already,’ Arthur says, looking down.

‘You just wait a while,’ Kai tells him.

 

So Arthur goes into the bedroom; lights a torch; strips and washes himself; pours the fragrant oil into his palm and prepares his body to receive Kai’s, carefully and without haste. Then he waits, oiled and half-hard, tingling with expectancy and cold, until the sounds of movement in the hall have quite ceased.

 

A low call from Kai: ‘Are you ready?’

‘Am I not always ready?’ Arthur says.

‘Come, then,’ Kai tells him.

 

Arthur walks softly into the hall, and stops in his tracks.

 

There are glimmering candles on the table, and two full cups of mead in the place of honour. Arthur’s carven chair has been pushed back and swathed in the purest, whitest fleece.

And sitting in the chair, lounging at his ease, is Kai – completely naked, utterly happy, and hugely, deliciously hard.

 

Flickering shadows play over his golden skin; his smile outshines the candles.

 

Arthur keeps his face expressionless as he says: ‘That’s my chair.’

‘Is it now?’ Kai wipes the smile from his own lips, with difficulty.

‘Mine by right,’ Arthur tells him, walking over to stand in front of Kai.

‘Mine by might.’ Kai looks up at him, and now he is grinning again.

He makes a provocative thrust with his hips, and Arthur feels himself stiffening anew.

‘I’m warning you.’ Arthur kneels in front of him and unstoppers the oil flask.

‘And I’m not hearing you,’ Kai says, leaning back luxuriously on his new fleeces.

‘I warned you,’ Arthur says, and Kai draws a sharp breath as Arthur slides an oiled hand down his shaft, drawing the skin back from its gleaming head.

‘Do you yield me my place?’ Arthur asks, moving his hand slowly up and down.

Kai reaches out; puts his hands on Arthur’s waist; turns him round.

‘Your place is here,’ Kai says. ‘Take it.’

And he draws Arthur down onto his lap, sliding easily into him, taking his weight as Arthur’s knees become suddenly, unaccountably weak.

 

Arthur grips the arms of the chair, vaguely aware that the sheepskin is soft under his fingers; his head is spinning. Kai moves inside him, smooth and tight; filling him. Kai’s hands are in Arthur’s hair, on his shoulders, teasing his nipples, sliding down his sides, reaching round to his groin.

Arthur groans in longing.

Kai chuckles. ‘Say “please”.’

‘Please,’ Arthur begs. ‘Please, Kai. Touch me.’

 

And Kai’s warm, oiled fingers curl themselves around his prick, and Kai thrusts deeper, touching the place deep inside where no-one else has ever touched him, nor ever will, only Kai. Only ever Kai.

 

Arthur throws back his head, and cries out, and Kai thrusts again, and Arthur hears him make that small desperate noise of surrender that means he can’t hold back any longer. Kai jerks and trembles beneath him; and then he’s coming, moaning and sobbing and pressing his face into Arthur’s back, and Arthur too is spilling himself into Kai’s hand, and the sudden tears that fill his eyes splinter the candlelight into sparkling fragments.

 

…

 

Later, much later, when they have laughed and wept, and washed each other, and drunk the mead, and blown out the candles, they lie in Arthur’s big bed, at ease with each other and with the whole world.

 

‘My thanks, Kai,’ Arthur murmurs sleepily.

 

Kai settles himself more comfortably against Arthur’s back. ‘What for?’ he asks, nuzzling into Arthur’s neck.

‘For… for these new blankets, for a start,’ Arthur replies.

‘No scratching tonight,’ Kai says.

‘Bliss,’ Arthur agrees. ‘Although…’

‘What?’

‘I hope you’ll still want to lie on top of me sometimes.’

‘Of course,’ Kai says.

Arthur heaves a deep, contented sigh. ‘And thank you for yielding me my place.’

‘I always will,’ Kai tells him. ‘I promise you, your place will always be with me – as mine is with you. Whether it’s on the battlefield, or in the bedroom.’

Then he snorts with laughter, and adds:

‘Or on a chair…’


End file.
